


Not Not Ma Vhenan

by Aly_H



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Demisexual Lavellan, Demisexuality, Dorian/Lavellan centric, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Bonding, Family Issues, Fantasy Racism, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Acephobia, M/M, Marriage, Rating May Change, Tags May Change, There are two DIFFERENT lavellans dating Bull and Dorian seperately not the same one, Weddings, fake relationship to real relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2019-08-29 18:50:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16749652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aly_H/pseuds/Aly_H
Summary: Taralyn Lavellan receives an invitation to his twin brother's wedding - a chance to repair the distance that has grown between the brothers...with one, slight hitch. Taralyn's family believes that he has spent the last two years dating someone.Coworker and Friend Dorian Pavus offers a seemingly simple solution - he'll pretend to be Taralyn's boyfriend for the duration of the wedding celebrations in Taralyn's home town of Skyhold. It's just a favor for a friend, nothing could happen...right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A note on the rating - it may change as it goes further. I'm not certain exactly where it'll end up being but will adjust as I progress through the story.
> 
> Check the tags - and let me know if there are any that would have helped you. I tried to be as thorough as possible but I don't want anyone to get hit by anything unexpected.

_Please Join Us for the Union of the Iron Bull & Haleir Lavellan…_ There was a sticky note attached to the invitation, written in his brother’s messy hand, a sharp comparison to the delicate font that had been chosen for the card itself. _I know it’s been a while, Tara, but it’d mean a lot if you would come. Bring that boyfriend you told S. about, I’d love to meet him. And I miss my brother. – Hal_

That…could be a problem.

“You look like someone ate your cake in front of you,” the eloquent Tevinter tones made him jump.

“No – I, it is nothing, Pavus.”

The other man snorted – sitting at his desk on the opposite side of the office they shared. “ _That_ was believable. Come – we’re friends, Lavellan, you can tell me.”

The position of Junior Magical Researcher – even for a large company such as this one – was not a particularly respected one. Hence why the two of them were crammed into a single office and constantly tripping over each other since they’d joined the company.

Still he found Dorian’s company’s almost enjoyable. Enough so that Dorian was one of the few friends he had made within the company.

“I…lack a date for my brother’s wedding.”

“Ask Annabeth in Personnel Resources, she’s sweet on you. And anyone with eyes could see she’s falling over herself trying to get your attention.”

“That would be…difficult. My family believes I have a partner and…she, uh, does not fit the way I described them.” He could feel the color rising on his cheeks, shame burning hot in his gut.

He’d have to come clean about being single and alone eventually – most weekends the only thing he talked to was his _houseplant_ for Mythal’s sake - ever since the corner grocery went to self-checkout machines he didn’t even have the usual exchange with the cashier.

“Because she’s human?” Dorian guessed, “I figured your family was traditional with the-” he gestured vaguely to his face.

He raised a silent brow at Dorian which got a sheepish smile. _Vallaslin_ wasn’t as universal among the Dalish as it once was. Still it was common enough that it shouldn’t have been assumed that it was simply because his family was traditional. His parents were, and Taralyn too, in many ways was but that was beside the point.

“No, it is not because she is human,” he said, carefully, rearranging the pens in the mug that sat on his desk – the one with a clay dragon wrapped around it that his little sister had given him a few years before. “…my siblings think I am dating a man.”

“…I think we’re going to need more wine for this story,” Dorian decided, sitting back and noticing the clock – it was nearly time for them to leave for the day anyways. “Come over tonight – I’ll cook and we’ll figure something out.”

“…” Taralyn narrowed green eyes at the human.

 “I’m Tevinter, not _evil_ , Lavellan,” Dorian snorted. “We’re friends and the fact that I’m terribly curious how much wine it takes for you to actually crack a smile has nothing to do with tonight. I’ll cook.”

“Fine,” he shook his head. “But I promise no smiles, Pavus.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to. Now that we’ve settled that – I need you to look at these Veil Readings-”


	2. Chapter 2

Dorian glanced over to the red haired elf who was leaning against the counter, a glass of wine in hand, his head tilted to the side as he observed the array of photos and papers stuck to the fridge. There were a few interesting ones, he supposed, but none warranted the scrutiny that Taralyn was applying to them.

“So – your brother. You’ve not mentioned him before?”

“Haleir and I…do not get along. We are twins, and both mages – our father has always had a habit of comparing the two of us, overly much. Where I became an ‘insufferable perfectionist’ due to his critical nature Haleir gave up on trying. Competition and resentment do not make good grounds on which to build anything.”

Dorian frowned at the pan – he understood the weight of a critical parent whom you wished to please, all too well. And how it felt so much easier to flout all expectations and make a show of yourself. “What did you do?”

“Why assume _I_ did something?” Taralyn glared.

“You sound like you haven’t talked to him in a while,” Dorian sighed, “And _you_ wouldn’t be avoiding someone unless you were ashamed of your own behavior. You are an insufferable perfectionist and a bit of an ass about it – _to yourself_ , never heard you direct that perfectionist attitude towards anyone else.”

The elf gave a low grunt and sipped his wine. Once the glass was lowered he turned his eyes back to the mosaic of colored leaflets on the fridge. He was quiet for a long time, his brows furrowed in as he weighed whether to speak or not.

“…Haleir struggled with magic…Rather than study and learn to control it, he chose medication to regulate his magic. I was angry with him for it – he was born with so much power and ability and he would throw it all away? - I called him a coward and a fool, in far less kind terms. He is neither, never has been.”

“You were jealous?”

“In part – I was also my father’s son. Disappointment was reason enough for a verbal lashing and Haleir had always been a convenient target. He never defended himself, never got angry or upset, just quiet and then he would be smiling again a little while later like nothing had happened…that time he yelled back. It was the first time I had ever seen him angry.”

“Deservedly.”

“Certainly,” Taralyn agreed with a sigh. “Things have remained awkward between the two of us since and, now, I have not seen him in person in three years – he was never there when I went to visit and I was busy when he would come home. We’ve spoken on the phone and by video but it is not the same.”

“And you hope the wedding will be a chance to repair this whole mess,” Dorian concluded. “But if they find out you’ve been lying about something this big for – how long?”

“Two years.”

Dorian gave a low whistle, “How have you kept it secret for so long? No pictures, no gatherings. Your sister and you talk, how has she never ‘met’ them in all that time?”

“I am not on social media,” Taralyn admitted with a blush. “And I claimed that they had a work schedule as busy as my own to excuse their inability to meet in person. I am private enough that neither thought to ask to see my phone for a picture.”

“How are you not on social media?” Dorian stared before shaking his head. “So we need to find you a guy that’s single and willing to spend the weekend with you in another city. Well then – this is easy.”

“ _How_?”

“I’ll do it.”

Green eyes stared at him, puzzlement practically shouting off the crease between his brows.

“I’m gay, single, bored, just as big a workacholic as you are so the work excuse _actually_ functions, and I’m not the worst company you could ask for, am I?”

“Very well,” Taralyn sighed, moving to fetch the plates as the timer went off.

He’d been over for dinner enough times to know where most of Dorian’s dishes were. Dorian had likewise been to Taralyn’s apartment for dinner on late nights, and once after he’d called needing a ride when too drunk after a dinner with his father to get himself home safe – the elf had insisted Dorian stay at his place, though relegated to the couch, so he was certain that he hadn’t ‘choked and died – it would be inconvenient for the presentation Monday’.

Dorian laughed, “You should be honored – I wouldn’t agree to fake date just anyone.”

“No, that would be your standards for _real_ dating,” the elf smiled.

“Oh, touché,” he snorted, placing an oven mitt clad hand over his heart as if injured. “I still have a few things to figure out though – I didn’t know you were gay, for example.”

“I am not,” Taralyn shook his head then noticing Dorian’s frown he elaborated with a grimace, fixing his gaze as he had elsewhere, in a sort of shame – “Demisexual, or well, I believe I am. It is difficult to judge when you do not make time for relationships. Attraction is a rarity for myself, the few times that I have had any were with men I had already grown close to as friends.”

“Have you ever dated before?” Dorian asked – then his eyes widened. “Not that I think that there’s anything wrong with not dating, or with being demi or ace. Both are fine, so I’m not trying to imply that dating someone would somehow fix you-”

He shut up as Taralyn stared at him then started to laugh – it was a soft noise, most a chuckle than an actual laugh but he’d known Tara long enough to know that it was genuine.

“Dorian, just stop,” he smiled, “No, I have never dated before. I focused on my studies and by the time those were done, well, how do you explain that you’re twenty seven and never kissed someone because you were never interested in it?”

“I wondered if your orientation had anything to do with why you felt like you had to lie to them.”

Taralyn stayed silent as they relocated from the kitchen to the living room so they could make use of the small table and actually sit while they ate. It wasn’t until a few bites in that he spoke again.

“I feared their rejection, and their pity.”

“Thank you for telling me then,” Dorian held his gaze, not wanting Taralyn to shy away ashamed once again. Dorian was out, and very loud about it, but he remembered those first few years after realizing that what he felt was different from many other people and how afraid – rightly - he had been of being rejected for being himself.

“You are a friend – a good one. If you are to do this favor for me you deserve my honesty in the very least.”

“Okay – what have you told them about ‘me’?”

“You have a cat.”

“I _do_ have a cat. Unfortunately he was stolen by my ex-roommate – never agree to joint-custody pet ownership. Visitation rights to Sock’ems is just not enough.”

“Didn’t your ex-roommate move in with her boyfriend and his _mabari_?”

“Sock’ems adores the slobbering heathen.”

“Rutherford or the dog?”

“Both. It’s all very tragic.”

Taralyn smiled and shook his head. “You enjoy magical things and can keep up with my understanding when I talk about my research.”

“Convenient I actually _can_ then,” Dorian grinned. “Are you certain that you did not just invent me to fill the void in your life. Am I secretly a homunculi and this is a test?”

“If I created a homunculus do you really think I would make one which requires a fortune in hair care and make up? Please, Pavus, give me _some_ credit,” the elf feigned offense.

“Oh very well – and the fact that I’m Tevinter, will it bother?”

“My brother is marrying a Tal-Vashoth veteran, so it _might_ be an issue. But from what Siona has told me of him the Iron Bull is very accepting.”

“Nicknames?”

“Nicknames?”

“Yes – what do your family call each other? Please tell me you don’t – you use their full names all the time, don’t you?”

“I actually do – is that strange?”

“Yes.”

A shake of his head and a short laugh - “Fine: Hal, Tara, and Siona does not have one I am aware of. They also started to speak in Trade as their first language younger than I did. I spoke Dalish elven primarily until I left home for university.”

“So they lack your contraction allergy?”

“I am not allergic to contractions.”

“ _I’m_.”

Instead of answering he made a rude gesture at the other mage.

“Alright – what should I know about you that only the most excellent boyfriend in Thedas would know?”

Taralyn smiled and shook his head – “My siblings may like you better than me by the end of this. I named my house plant.”

“…I don’t know whether I should be scared at your commitment to loneliness or find that adorable. Do you talk to it to?”

“… _mythal’enaste_. I knew I would regret this – yes.”


	3. Chapter 3

Solas Dread, CEO of Dread Industries had just finished his speech to a round of applause. The man was considered a revolutionary in the field of Magical Sciences – or Scientific Magic, rather – and their adaptation and application to everyday life for Thedosians.

Dorian had spent the better part of the speech wondering how the boss of the company he was now employed for had managed to get the top of his head _that_ shiny. It was distracting.

Still, he supposed the speech about the bonds of their company and improving the future and so forth was inspiring and all. And the lavish company-wide party was a pleasant excuse to get out of his apartment even if he still felt a stranger to this place.

“How long does etiquette dictate it is necessary to remain at these events?” the light Dalish accent to his right was a surprise.

Rather than _show_ it he looked at Taralyn Lavellan from the corner of his eye. The red haired mage was an attractive man but his personality left _much_ to be desired. The way his expression seemed constantly creased into a tight glare had made sharing an office with the other junior magical researcher…difficult.

Rather than his usual pony-tail the man’s long red hair had been done in intricate plaits and braids, a Dalish style that kept the hair from covering either the violet Sylaise _vallaslin_ or the pointed ears. Like Dorian he had chosen to accentuate his heritage by dressing in a style that reflected it - greens and golds in intricate patterns.

Dorian himself had gone for something with _far_ too many buckles to belong to the more sensible fashions that predominated the South. Mae would’ve been proud.

“I don’t know, in Tevinter you couldn’t claim you’d it was a party until there was at _least_ one blood sacrifice - you know how it is,” he said airily.

The elf beside him made a noise that sounded like a hum. “I will volunteer if it means an escape.”

“A tempting offer,” Dorian laughed. “How many glasses have you had that _you’re_ making jokes?”

_“Welcome to Skyhold, Pavus.”_

He straightened and blinked a few times in confusion. The dream of the memory displaced by the cozy streets of a small town. The sort of place with a sleepy air that came straight out of one of those cheesy holiday movies. And horror movies.

“Where are we?” he asked, stretching a little and glancing across to where Taralyn was driving.

“Skyhold – my home town.”

“...if I end up murdered by a cult of cannibals who masquerade as the town council I _will_ haunt you, Lavellan.”

The elf’s lips twitched in a smile. “Noted.”

“You never woke me up to drive,” Dorian commented as he observed the town. He’d sworn he said that he’d take half the drive.

Taralyn shrugged, “The drive gave me time to think. I did not mind – Siona has asked to meet us for lunch. Are you up to it or would you like to finish your nap at the hotel? I can drop you off before I go if you are still tired?”

Dorian flipped the mirror down to check himself over and make sure it wasn’t _too_ obvious he’d fallen asleep against the window on the drive out. “That would make a very good first impression for your sister – _Oh, no, I just couldn’t meet you, my beauty sleep was in dire peril!_ ”

The falsetto made Taralyn chuckle softly before he found a parking spot in front of a restaurant whose sign declared its name in bright red letters on the front window: Mama’s.

“Well then, just remember I _did_ give you a chance to hide a while longer,” he warned, getting out of the car.

Dorian didn’t miss a few confused glances from people who Taralyn flashed that stiff, polite smile of his that practically screamed ‘Look, I know how to be polite, but I don’t want to be mistaken for _friendly_.’ It was good to see that wasn’t an expression he’d recently developed just for city life.

Taralyn held the door open and stepped into the diner behind him. The place was homey, far too many cuckoo clocks on the wall.

Even without seeing pictures of the girl – more young woman, really – that stood up from one of the tables and bounded over to hug Taralyn he would’ve recognized her as his sister. She was shorter than he expected given that Taralyn was rather tall by elven standards.

Siona Lavellan turned to him, broad grin. “So you’re _real!_ Cassandra owes me pie! She thought that Tara had just made you up. Oh, wait, uh,” she went to hug him then hesitated and stuck her hand out.

He shook hers, “I’m Dorian.”

“I’m Siona. Thanks for putting up with Tara, he’s a bear but he’s totally worth it.”

“I am not.”

Dorian grinned, eyes sparkling, “You’re quite right – you’re not worth it, dear, but I’m here anyways.”

Taralyn rolled his eyes, a bit of a smile playing at his lips.

“Let us order lunch and then you may resume judging Dorian, little sister.”

Once they were settled at the table, Siona’s bright yellow-green eyes flicked between them. Not her brother’s emerald color but not quite either yellow or green either. Her _vallaslin_ was a delicate violet design - the same color as her brother’s though the design set across her densely freckled skin was for Ghilan’nain.

Dorian sat beside Taralyn, closer to the wall – he noted, that Taralyn had placed himself where he would shield Dorian from any disapproving glances that anyone who noticed him in a small town like this one might send his way. That was charming, in its own way.

“Okay,” he said as the waitress departed with their orders. “How about this, I answer one question and you have to tell me something about your family. Your brother is many wonderful things but, alas, talkative is not one of them.”

“I’m pretty sure he communicated through grunting and glaring all during high school,” Siona’s bright smile was a sparkling counterpoint to her brother’s more stern nature. “Okay – where are you from?”

“Qarinus, in Tevinter. Though I think of Minrathous as more my home, after spending so long there as a teenager.”

“You’re a mage right? Did you attend the Circle there? Was it very interesting? What kind of things did you study?”

“Siona,” Taralyn smiled. “You are already breaking the rules of your game.”

“….oh, _myth_ -darn.”

Dorian laughed – so this is what Tara’s curiosity would look like if it were fed sugar, “No worries – I _am_ a mage, a necromancer, in fact. I do find magic interesting and I studied in a few different Circles. You’re a mage as well, aren’t you? Have you finished your studies?”

“I go through the Harrowing next year if the Enchanters approve of my progress,” she shrugged a little.

“So soon?” Taralyn frowned. So that was news to him as well. Siona was certainly old enough, nearly twenty, but the worry was understandable.

While no longer the nightmarish tortures of the past Harrowings were….unpleasant. Dorian had to do it twice, once in Tevinter and once to get licensed in the South. It was no longer a requirement for all those of magical talent, but if one wished to work _as_ a mage in a magical field it was a requirement.

“Hey, I’m not the one who needed counseling for my anger so I wasn’t at risk of demons,” she stuck her tongue out at her brother. “I’m taking it seriously, Tara, stop looking like that.”

“Alright,” Taralyn nodded, the look in his eye clearly saying he’d return to the topic but at a later date.

“Okay, my turn! What do you _really_ think of the fact that my brother talks to his plant?”

“Adahl is quite charming.”

For a first time meeting with his “boyfriend’s” family Dorian laughed more than he thought he would, and watched the corner of his eye as Tara rolled his eyes at the teasing but also relaxed in a way he hadn’t seen before. Some of the tension let loose form his shoulders and a quiet sort of smile playing at his lips.

A shame he didn’t do that more often.

Siona caught him staring and beamed even brighter than before at him: “Bull does that to Haleir too,” she giggled when Dorian’s cheeks colored. “Stare at him like he’s the prettiest person in the whole world, I mean. It’s sweet.”

Taralyn’s freckled skin showed his blush at the comment too, his head ducked slightly.

Dorian couldn’t really deny it either – he _had_ been looking at her brother, though he wasn’t sure about the prettiest person thing but there was no denying that when he relaxed (when he didn’t too, really) that Taralyn was quite handsome.

“Are you two coming to the party tonight? Bull’s inventing ‘Qunari’ customs again and apparently pre-wedding barbeques are a part of Tal-Vashoth culture now. And since Aban agreed there’s no calling him out on it.”

“Yes, we will be there,” Taralyn smiled, “We are going to take our bags over to the hotel and settle in a bit first though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look! New chapter! With a special guest appearance in honor of the new trailer. Hope y'all enjoyed!


	4. Chapter 4

The Qunari finished toweling off as he came into the bedroom – modesty wasn’t something that he was going to worry about in his own bedroom, after all. And raised a brow as he spotted the prosthetic arm was still laying on the bed, where it had been set out that morning.

With a shake of his head he dressed, and headed downstairs.

It’d been two years since they’d moved to the small town. Haleir had bought his grandparents’ little farm house when it’d gone up for sale even before the two of them had met, let alone begun to date. It’d been meant to be a quiet escape from the noisy, vibrant life he led as a reporter for _Inquisition,_ for the last two years the two of them had made it their home and sanctuary.

Said elf was busy pacing the kitchen, a spatula tapping in time to his steps on his leg in his hand. Long brown hair was still loose – he hated putting it up himself since the accident.

“Kadan,” he commented. “You’re burning.”

“What?” Hal stopped to stare at him in confusion before looking to the griddle on the stove and swearing as he went to flip the grilled cheese sandwiches, now thoroughly blackened.

Bull snorted and shook his head, getting out the materials to make a new one. “Why don’t you sit and you can tell me what has you worked up, hmm?”

“You just don’t want me setting anything on fire,” the elf accused, surrendering the spatula and kissing Bull’s cheek before he stepped aside, going to sit at the breakfast island.

“ _You_ can’t smell the burned cheese smell for weeks after,” he grinned.

The burnt lunch tossed, heat turned down – Haleir got impatient and usually set it too high in an attempt to speed the process – and the new ones on he glanced at his lover.

The elf was sat at the breakfast island, filling out one of Bull’s crossword puzzles that he’d left there earlier. Or (and more likely) Krem had. He could see that there were at least four different sets of handwriting in that page, none of which were actually _his_.

The way the elf held the pen was a little awkward still, even after two years of learning to write with

“Do you want to put your arm on, today?”

That got a scrunched nose. “I think so, yeah. Just didn’t want to deal with doing it yet.” A moment of silence before a smirk: “Think I could get a hand after lunch?”

A deep laugh and he shook his head, “Of course, kadan. So…first time you’re seeing your brother in what?”

“Eh,” he shrugged. “I dunno, like, three years now, I guess? We haven’t gotten along all that well since I moved out from our father’s place. Not that Tara’s ever been easy to get along with.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hey, I’ve got you to hide behind this time,” he grinned. “Bull, I’ll be fine, promise. Just nervous. When’s Krem coming over? You two planned to get cooking pretty early right?”

Bull leaned over and kissed his forehead, “Yeah, we did. Still have an hour or two before Krem’s here. Siona’s not supposed to show up til then either right?”

“About three, yeah. Why?”

“I think my paranoia’s begun to rub off on you, kadan,” he chuckled. Turning away to plate the sandwiches and set one of them in front of Hal. “I was thinking maybe we could fit in some time to get you relaxed before our guests show up.”

Interest sparked in his lover’s gold colored eyes, and a real smile too. A lot of the tension seemed to have evaporated in favor of an entirely different kind of alertness – definitely a more fun one.

“You just want to make sure I have a big fucking lovebite right where everyone can see it,” he accused.

“Mmm, maybe.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Here, boss,” Bull’s rumble at his ear made him look up and smiled as he accepted the plastic cup. A quick sniff told him it was lemonade, of the tame variety. He wasn’t much of a drinker these days anyways – his coordination was _already_ difficult enough with an enchanted prosthetic hand.

And the idea of seeing Taralyn in person for the first time in what? Three, four years? Best to be sober so his sharp tempered brother had one less thing to criticize.

He could already imagine the sort of complaints Tara would have about him marrying Bull. And doing so in a ceremony that lacked Dalish traditions – as if any Keeper would have agreed to perform them when their father was the local _hahren_ and staunchly set against the wedding.

“Thanks,” he murmured, taking a sip.

“Going to get stuck in your head again,” his fiancé teased, his eye scanning the small crowd that had already gathered in the yard and on the porch around their home. A few would be inside but the vast majority were outside still.

The Chargers had taken over the food preparation area and declared it their sovereign territory. Anyone who tried to take over would have to be prepared to fight them for it. And Bull seemed content to let his people make him just enjoy their own party.

Beyond them and any various partners that they’d brought – Maryden was around here somewhere – both Bull and Hal were friendly sorts and so they had plenty of people whom they’d invited both for the pre-wedding shenanigans and for the wedding itself.

“He’ll be here soon. Just will be strange – I didn’t even let him visit when I was in hospital. We’ve not seen each other in person since before the accident.”

He flexed the fingers on his prosthetic – Dagna had designed it to be powered by his own magic, and its constant draw reduced the amount of mana he had at his disposal but made it so his spells were no longer unwieldy and dangerous to himself as they had been when he was younger. Still he wasn’t a very skilled mage – most began learning their power properly well before their mid-twenties.

Bull rested one of his big hands at his lower back, a grounding presence. But let their attention drift elsewhere.

“COLE!” Siona practically flew off the porch past them. She sprang into the hug of a young man who’d just walked up from where the cars were parked. He had to spin her briefly in his hold to keep her momentum from toppling them over. She was smiling brightly and planted a kiss on his cheek.

His hoodie had been knocked completely off his head to show shockingly pale, messy blond hair. Siona grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers together and pulled him around the house towards where they could get food.

“Did you know she had a boyfriend?” Hal asked, narrowing his eyes at the stranger.

“Yeah.”

He looked at him sharply. This was the first _he’d_ heard about it.

“Ben-Hassrath, remember? Her lock-screen is the two of them on a Ferris wheel together, kissing. She left her phone on the counter when her and Krem made the run for the veggie burgers earlier.”

“Huh, I figured her plus one was just a precaution,” Hal shook his head. “Well then. Guess I’ll be meeting two of my siblings’ boyfriends tonight.”

Before he could pursue after them and grill Siona’s apparent-boyfriend about his intentions towards his baby sister Hal spotted two more new comers joining the party.

The first was as easy to recognize as his own face in the mirror. Partially because if it weren’t for the different designs of their _vallaslin_ and the different scars they would _be_ the same face.

Taralyn was dressed comfortably rather than formally, his long red hair plaited into a traditional Dalish style that showed off both ears and tattoos. His green eyes met Hal’s gold ones steadily but he slowed his walk to a hesitant stop.

Beside him was – surprisingly – a human. Mid-ranged skin tones, black hair, pretty eyes highlighted by a bit of makeup. Like Tara he’d opted for a T-shirt - this one emblazoned with a script _I’m Where the Magic Happens_ rather than plain as his brother had opted for - and jeans. More jewelry than he’d expect of someone that would catch his overly strict brother’s attention, but then, maybe it was an opposites attract thing? Or Taralyn had finally learned how to be fun. Nope. That’d be impossible.

He leaned down to murmur something to Taralyn who flashed him a grateful smile before setting his shoulders – wait…Taralyn Frickin’ Lavellan _smiled_? Was the world ending? Maybe he should be checking the sky for gaping maws into the Fade itself.

While Hal proceeded to openly gape at a man who could make his brother _relax_ , if aeven for a moment, Taralyn had crossed the distance between them.

“Haleir,” Taralyn greeted – the hesitancy in his voice apparent – “I…you look…well.” His brother winced a little as the words left his mouth, a quick glance at his arm – the last time they’d been in the same proximity with one another he’d not been missing his left arm from below the elbow.

_Guess he still kicks himself over every little misstep._

“Hey, this one’s awesome. I was flipping burgers without a spatula earlier,” he grinned, raising his hand to wiggle the fingers at his brother. “And you’re my brother’s beau?”

“Dorian Pavus,” the stranger greeted, eyes curious on the arm – that familiar mage gleam of _how does this work?_ sparkling in them. Hal had two too many mage-mages in his family not to know that look. “Enchanted? But not powered by lyrium?”

“…Creators – Siona warned me you were as bad as him,” Haleir laughed. “I’m Haleir Lavellan. This is the Iron Bull. I’m glad you both made it in safe from the city.”

“Good to meet you both,” Bull grinned, observing them both in his manner which might have been mistaken for friendly if you didn’t know him but was actually him getting a read on someone. Hell, Bull was getting a read on _him_ and seeing if this awkward-as-the-Fade conversation could get any more painful without a Pride demon erupting from the earth.

Bull’s hand gets a smidge firmer against his back - his gorgeous, handsome, way-too-smart-for-him fiancé bailing them out of uncomfortable silences because his brain and mouth weren’t doing that communicating thing: “So, how did you two love birds meet?”

“Oh, you know, university,” Dorian grinned, an easy shrug. “Not the same one, we met at one of those research conferences. He had a few – by which I mean _many_ \- complaints regarding my theory of Temporal Manipulation.”

“Time Magic is not possible. No matter what your numbers may say,” Taralyn informed him, clearly still offended by the topic.

“Mmm, perhaps – you’re still wrong, by the way - but I’m still the one who got a free dinner out of it.”

Taralyn huffed, a ghost of a smile appearing.

“Cassandra’s around here somewhere,” he volunteered the information – he needed to take some time to get his brain wrapped around having a civil conversation with his brother. The first in…well, a very long time. “Aban managed to beg her into taking the day off. Issala’s with a sitter for tonight though.”

“I should find her – she will be cross enough it has taken this long to meet Dorian already…will I see you later?”

Hal nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be sure to find you. We still have to finish catching up.”

Tara smiled – at him, not at Dorian – the world was definitely ending – before he took Dorian’s wrist (why the wrist and not his hand?) and led him towards where the food was. If the world wasn’t ending maybe he’d been seduced by a desire demon? That could always be it. No way he was marrying Bull and had all his family – all the family that _mattered,_ anyway – under one roof. Plus plenty of friends.

“That went better than you thought, huh?”

“He kinda reminded me of back before Mom died,” Hal admitted. “It’d be nice to have that brother back some.”

A quick kiss and they parted ways. They had their own friends to say ‘hi’ to. And he rarely got to spend time with anyone he’d known from the _Inquisition_ since he’d moved out to the country.

And! Creators! Varric brought Hawke. Hopefully someone (Krem) had thought to bring fire extinguishers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry that this update took so long - been figuring out some things with my life recently. Hope that the wait was worth it for y'all!


	6. Chapter 6

Dorian reached out and set a hand on his arm after they had put a little distance between them and the happy couple. He squeezed it a little, dragging him out of his thoughts. Out of trying to analyze every twitch of Haleir’s face.

“Are you alright?”

“I…think so? That did not go as terribly as I imagined,” he admitted. “The Time Magic was a good touch, I would not have thought to use that.”

The argument had actually occurred during the first weeks that they had been working together. In one of Dorian’s early attempts to bridge the awkward suffocating silence and break through the icy aloofness he had put on at the time before he had been able to understand the motivations of the _shem_ who kept prodding him with questions and trying to draw him into banter.

Dorian had been lonely. Honestly? So had he.

They’d ended up getting dinner together at some diner near their work so they could keep discussing the topic. It’d…been a good night, one of the best since he’d moved to that city and it had been the night he’d finally started thinking of Dorian as a friend.

Dorian grinned, “Well I _am_ incredibly talented – and quite clever to boot.”

“I know,” he shook his head before pausing his step.

The dark haired woman with a fierce, stubborn set about her was approaching like she was on a mission. And if he knew Cassandra – which he did – she _was_. The bemused look from her husband who ambled behind her far less concerned meant that it could only be one thing.

“Well, Dorian, it was nice to know you,” he told him just before Cassandra reached them.

His best friend scowled at Dorian – “A word, Lavellan.”

“I will find you soon,” Taralyn promised Dorian, his wrist seized by the woman as he was dragged a distance off.

As they walked he could hear Aban introduce himself to Dorian, the friendly Tal-Vashoth would be able to keep Dorian company until he got back. Or Siona noticed that her new favorite necromancer had been abandoned on his own.

When they were out of earshot of the party, by the barn, she released him and turned to glare, “What is this about?”

“What is ‘this’, _lethallan_?” he asked despite knowing full well what she was talking about.

“How far do you intend to take this farce?” she crossed her arms. “I know you do not have a boyfriend so who is _he_.”

He’d hoped that Cassandra would wait to have things explained, but she’d known the truth about it being a lie from the start. And had greatly disapproved. There were disadvantages to having a best friend whose sense of honor was as well developed as hers.

“Dorian Pavus,” he told her.

“The one from your work?” her temper seemed to go out, her head tilting a little with a curious gleam in her eyes. “You speak of him often, he agreed to do this for you?”

“He is a friend,” what was she getting _that_ look for? “Why are you looking at me like I am one of your horribly romantic books?”

“No reason,” she laughed, “I will help you, _for now_ – but tell your family the truth after this is done, Lavellan.”

“I got it, Pentaghast,” he told her. “Now can we go save my date from your husband? Preferably before he has gotten to telling Dorian about our college Duel days?”

“ _Ugh_ , he would wouldn’t he?” she grimaced. But stopped him before he could walk back to the party to hug him. “It is good to see you again, Taralyn. You should visit more often.”

“I know,” he hugged her back and then they headed back.

Aban wasn’t particularly tall by Qunari standards and built more lean than the Iron Bull was. Blue eyes danced with amusement as he and Dorian had found seats at one of the tables set up for the party and drinks as well.

“I swear I saw stars – that’s how I knew, this was the one. Course while I’m there getting hit by cupid’s arrow Tara’s halfway down the field with our banner.”

“Taralyn played Duel?” Dorian didn’t disguise his surprise at that. “I never would’ve pictured it. He seems too…” He waved his hand vaguely as if he wasn’t sure what Taralyn was _too_.

 “There is not a Duel league around home,” he said, taking a seat next to Dorian.

Cassandra sat beside Aban, whose arm immediately lifted to wrap around her shoulders. He also slid the two extra cups that had sat between him and Dorian over to the newly arrived pair.

Dorian was studying him quizzically, “I never would’ve imagined _you_ were a jock. Magic or mixed?”

“Never played in a magic league. We are too far South for those to really exist. I played mixed mostly, some magicless.”

“Maybe we can get in a match while you’re here, Taralyn, I’m sure Dorian wouldn’t mind being on your team.”

Aban was met with a flat green stare, “I am certain Dorian would prefer to go unbruised while visiting my hometown, Adaar.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea how to play,” Dorian added, “I know there’s something about stealing flags and people usually end up bleeding. Or on fire.”

“Usually both,” Taralyn smiled. “Besides, two mages against you two? Cassandra you would be dreadfully disadvantaged.”

“I can take you both,” she grinned, eyes narrowing competitively. “Quite easily, I might add.”

Aban laughed, his blue eyes dancing, “My love, I would be there to help you. I used to play too.”

“Is _that_ what you were doing?” she teased.

Taralyn hummed in feigned contemplation, “I seem to recall you sleeping on the field.”

“I wasn’t _that_ bad. You two are just monsters.”

He noticed Dorian smiling at him from the corner of his eye – he looked like he had just discovered a new way to fold the Fade.

Taralyn could feel his cheeks color as he took a quick drink – lemonade – to try and distract himself from the way that Dorian looking at him made him feel. It was just gratitude and friendship, nothing more, surely. He’d known Dorian for too long for it to be anything else…

“Tara!” Siona had a bounce in her step as she popped up, hugging both him and Dorian at once, and making him choke – spluttering as he tried to keep from inhaling the liquid in his mouth. He wasn’t even entirely sure that it _hadn’t_ been timed to do just that, knowing his sister.

A familiar looking blond boy hovered nearby, pale eyes studying the party though the dark hood of his jacket was pulled up.

“Hi Dorian,” she grinned, ignoring her brother’s glare. “You survived Cassandra – congratulations!”

“I am not that dangerous.”

“Mm…yes you are,” Siona grinned, completely unfazed by the scowl she got in return. “But we love you anyways, Cassie. Issy’s not here today?”

“She’s with a sitter tonight,” Aban was the one to answer, “She’s going to be at the reception though, think I could bribe you into watching her for a bit so I can get a few dances with her Mom?”

“Sure – wait, is she past the setting things on fire stage?”

“Onto glowing lights,” Aban shrugged. “And not using the ice maker in the fridge to cool her drinks. Is that normal?”

Taralyn nodded, “Pretty normal for eight, she will still be using magic instinctively to do little tasks like that. Have you two decided on if you’ll send her to a Circle school or have her tutored at home?”

Siona used the moment of distraction to give Aban a thumbs-up then grab her friend by the hand and pull him away.

“Any sign what her element is going to be?” Dorian asked curious – most young mages leaned towards a specific element after all. It was usually what manifested most strongly when they were young, but not always.

Aban shook his head, “She’s using the primal ones pretty evenly. Hal says she’s not leaning towards spirit though, so I’ll just be glad about that.”

“Your brother knows a lot about spirit magic?” Dorian looked at him, curious, “I thought he hadn’t trained?”

“He’s a Rift mage,” Cassandra was the one who answered, “They are more susceptible to demons. Like spirit-healers they have a close connection to the Fade itself.”

“Cassandra is the district’s Seeker,” Aban added, noticing Dorian’s curious look. Apart from Seekers and Templars most without magic did not bother to learn the intricacies of the craft. “Though you should’ve seen her when she found out my Issala was a magelet. She had so many parenting books in her apartment, and all those ‘Your Child is a Mage and that’s Okay’ pamphlets they hand out.”

The woman in question groaned and kicked the Tal-Vashoth under the table.

“It was sweet,” Aban laughed, as if he’d not even noticed the retaliation, and pulled her closer to kiss the top of her head. “It meant a lot that you were making an effort when it came to her, I thought I was lucky you looked at me but I hit the lottery when you were someone that wanted to do well by the little one too.”

Dorian leaned close to his ear, “They’re adorable – didn’t you tell me Cassandra was the most likely to murder me?”

He stifled a laugh, “She _is_. Cassandra just pretends to be nicer around Aban.” He winced as his shin had an impact under the table, “ _Lethallan_ ,” he grumbled at her.

“I do not pretend.”

“ _Ir abelas_ ,” he shook his head. “Was my shin a necessary casualty?”

“Yes.”

Her husband shook his head, fond before standing, “Let’s go get some food. And I need to say ‘hi’ to Bull at some point. We’ll see you two later.”

“So she’s your best friend – why is she at your brother’s wedding?”

Taralyn hesitated, having to consider a way to explain it which wouldn’t touch too closely on things Cassandra would prefer be left unsaid – “She is more family than she is a friend – that is what ‘ _lethallan’_ means. Siona treats her like an elder sister, and Haleir cares about people too easily anyways.”

Dorian nodded, thoughtful, “So why is your sister dragging around our boss’s son?”

Taralyn sat straight up at that – the blond boy in the hoodie had seemed familiar but was that really? “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“…Creators – ever feel like Fen’Harel is playing a trick on you?”


	7. Chapter 7

“We’ll be safe up here,” Siona told him, crossing her legs as she sat beside him, passing him one of the bags of chips and balancing the plate with their veggie burgers on it between them. The gentle incline of the porch’s roof not enough to risk them sliding away if careful but enough that they could be bumped into rolling off onto some unsuspecting victim below.

“Your family is very noisy,” Cole observed, watching the people who were in the yard below.

Siona laughed, a fond sound that made his smile grow, “Yeah. You don’t mind?”

He shook his head.

It was different from home, but full of life and vibrancy. There was so much going on, lots of hurts festering, but made less painful by the bright lights and the music, at least for that night.

It was a little overwhelming so he focused on what he knew best.

Siona sat beside him, the way she sought to heal and help whatever she could a gentle warmth to her presence. She twined their fingers together and tilted her head back to look at the stars. A memory tugged lose by the glittering lights, bitter-sweet.

“You miss the stars having names.”

She hummed, her fingers squeezing his briefly, “I guess I do. I hadn’t even really thought of that in years. I don’t remember any of them anymore.”

Cole hesitated before he moved the plate and shifted closer to her. His shoulder pressed against hers as his finger traced a cluster of six stars with his finger. “Judex.”

Siona giggled some, pecking his cheek, “I think most guys would have picked something more romantic than ‘justice’.”

The gentle tease drew a bashful smile, “But you wouldn’t want anyone else here.”

“Reading my mind again, Messere Dread?” the faux-imperious tone, the one meant to sound like their alchemy professor, ruined by the wobble that the imminent threat of further giggles put in her voice.

“No. I didn’t need to.”

She blushed before resting her head on his shoulder. She threaded their fingers back together and relaxed – watching the party below.

“This will be one of my favorite roof-memories,” she decided. “I’m glad you changed your mind, Cole. I know this isn’t easy but…”

“It was important to you,” he murmured. “Your brothers, their loves, you, and I. Ribbons wrapped around hands – happy for them but afraid to be alone. The one always without a partner, a pair.” He lifted her hand up, untangling their hands so he could trace his fingertips lightly down the lengths of hers and brush them across her palm. “I’m here.”

“You are,” she agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda stalled out on this for a bit, but I did get this cute little chapter done while trying to figure it out. Next chapter should see the boys again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you're enjoying this so far!
> 
> Let me know what you're thinking in the comments!
> 
> Hope y'all have a good night now!


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